Sometimes it's easy
by Corvus corona
Summary: For a few hours, Yamato and Kabuto take refuge from the rest of the world. Mostly Kabuto. And mostly from Urushi. KabuYama, oneshot. Set post-war. Rated M for sexual content.


"Do you have to go _now_..?"

Young girls have strong hands. Trapped by the sleeve as he was, Yamato had no choice but to come up with an answer. He nodded solemnly. "Yes." When the girl's pout only deepened, he tried a smile, as well. "But if you give me my hand back soon, I might be able to find you a present…"

Aiko perked up instantly, eyes alight, and in a heartbeat Yamato's hands were both free. As if thinking hard, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. "But where did I put it..?" He deliberated for a moment, and then the answer came to him suddenly, as with a warm flow of chakra an enormous peony blossomed in his palm. When he placed it in Aiko's waiting hands, she beamed.

And like that, she was bounding away, cradling the bloom to her chest as she blurted a cursory "Thank you!" over her shoulder.

From the doorway, Kabuto shouted after her. "Put it in water!" Yamato got to his feet.

"Urushi will take care of that, won't he?" Yamato smiled serenely at his disgruntled companion as he exited the orphanage. Kabuto shut the door behind them with a sigh.

"That's so hopeful."

The summer sky was richly colored, and as they worked their way into the village proper more and more people could be seen enjoying the evening air. Yamato acknowledged a few, nodding or returning short greetings, but the talk never went any further than that. Each exchange elicited polite interest from Kabuto, but no more. For the most part, they strolled together in silence.

Just when the light was at its most golden, Yamato's home came within sight.

He followed Kabuto inside. "Should we do drinks?" While he removed his outer gear, his guest went after the sake and cups. "This bottle is a nice one. I get paid plenty when I'm not working for you."

Kabuto gave him a somewhat dry look then, to which he could only reply with a smile.

Only with a drink to his lips did Kabuto finally speak again, once they were settled . "What do they have you doing, lately?" He sipped. "You haven't told me since that long mission, last month."

"Oh, that's top secret." Yamato looked him dead in the eyes, waiting several beats before continuing. "Well, I wouldn't be visiting so often if I were busy. It's been simple things. Somebody will stir up more trouble eventually, no need to worry about that." He drained his cup cheerfully.

"So serious. I hope the horrors of the world aren't making you harsh, Yamato?"

Both of them seemed to find that funny. They poured more sake, but left it sitting for the moment at a gesture from Yamato, who had a tendency to loom when he wanted something and was doing so now. Kabuto glanced up, and in an instant Yamato was kissing him. Gently. He curled his fingers in Kabuto's hair.

Kabuto shifted, sitting up straighter. He moved his hands to cup Yamato's face; touched the thin vague strip of paleness where his headband had been covering the skin. The hair at Yamato's temples felt just-dried of sweat. Where the band had held the metal in place, it was a mess.

When he pulled back, he spent a few moments studying Yamato's face, appearing pleased. Then he planted a shorter kiss at the corner of his mouth and picked up his cup again, glancing pointedly at Yamato's as he finished his own drink.

Smiling vaguely, Yamato followed the example. He ended up following Kabuto a lot, for all that he was well-respected ANBU and Yakushi, a strange ex-criminal, ex-spy, often avoided. He followed him now to his own bedroom, and was shortly being backed up to the wall.

Yamato pressed his palm to the wood briefly, bracing his body against it, appearing to settle in. He took Kabuto's face in his hands and locked him firmly into a kiss. Kabuto's entire body responded, pressing as close as possible, hands low on Yamato's chest, determined. There was determination in his mouth as well, and he led Yamato firmly, tilting his head left and right, pausing for only a second to tug Yamato's collar down from his chin. He broke off then, to plant kisses under his ear; trailing them evenly, overlapping, methodically moving lower as he listened to Yamato's breaths become something more like sighs. When he reached the folded-down edge of the fabric, he left the warm skin slowly, breaking the rhythm, and hovered there for a moment. Saying nothing, but perhaps sighing, Kabuto moved his hands deliberately to the wall, slightly wide of Yamato's body, and raised his head, eyeing Yamato from a short distance. Yamato let his hands fall from where they had settled on Kabuto's back, and twisted to take off his shirt.

Kabuto pressed his lips briefly to Yamato's chest in response, then returning to where he had been. Yamato wrapped his arms around him, more decisively this time, and Kabuto paused in his stream of kisses again to lay his cheek against Yamato's bare shoulder.

After a moment of absent swaying with Kabuto in his arms, something occurred to Yamato. "Take off your glasses." With a low noise of assent, Kabuto removed himself from Yamato's grasp. He placed them on a shelf nearby—there was a space for them there—and the moment he turned back around, Yamato was on him. He drove him towards the table and lifted him onto it.

Ruffled, Kabuto complained wordlessly and, once he put him down, shifted restlessly—though Yamato presently had a hand in his hair once again. He let the other one meander, brushing the nape of Kabuto's neck, learning again the swell of vertebrae at the back, the jaw and tendons in the front.

All the while, Yamato never released Kabuto's mouth for long. He worked it slowly, savoring the warmth and the trace remains of sake. But when he felt Kabuto's hands start to slip against his shoulders, he couldn't. Yamato moved more insistently; left fewer opportunities to breathe. More noises escaped Kabuto's lips. Yamato felt himself getting hard.

Once Yamato's hands had worked their way down to his thighs, Kabuto had insinuated himself so far forward on the tabletop that without the support of the body in front of him he'd almost certainly tumble off. He had trapped Yamato in place, legs pressing hard into him just above his hips, ankles crossed, and—Yamato noticed with a sense of victory—cock hardening. He rocked forward just slightly with every kiss, and caught his breath more sharply in the short intervals between. When Yamato finally allowed him a break, Kabuto slumped forward, breathing so close to his ear that Yamato shuddered as he turned his attention to Kabuto's clothes. Between this, the fingers still insistently playing along his shoulders and the back of his neck, and the fact that the clothing all seemed too heavy for the summer, it was with distracting inefficiency that he attempted to remove them.

In less than a minute, Kabuto was fed up. "Let me down," he muttered, although he had already shifted and was forcing Yamato out of his way regardless.

Narrowly avoiding being knocked right over, Yamato stepped aside apologetically while Kabuto removed his own disheveled clothes, stripping matter-of-factly to the skin. He closed the distance again, however, as soon as he could. "That's pretty anticlimactic, don't you think?" He took Kabuto's hand, twining their fingers together. Judging by the deadpan look he got just before an arm snaked around his waist and his hips were yanked forward, Yamato was the only one who thought so. His misgivings dissipated completely the instant Kabuto's hot tongue pressed against his neck. Forgetting everything momentarily, he could only grasp ineffectually and arch his spine as Kabuto's hands slid down low on his back. They were on his ass before he could collect himself, and he could only hold Kabuto as close to himself as possible as he moved Yamato's body to his will.

Kabuto moaned softly into his neck, and he knew immediately it was a calculated move—a second after that registered it occurred to him how quickly and clearly he'd known, and the urge to laugh rose up in him so fast that there was nothing he could do to stop it. Yamato lightened the pressure he had been putting on Kabuto's back and stroked it gently for a moment, dislodging him from his neck to place a kiss on his temple and to turn, in the interlude, to back him towards a chair that stood askew from its desk nearby. He noted that Kabuto was wary, now; he allowed the slow movement backwards, but their cheeks touched as he stood up straight, feeling out every step.

When the backs of his legs hit the chair, he barely seemed surprised, and Yamato lowered him onto its edge without resistance—but his hands slid immediately to Yamato's bare stomach, giving him precious little time to swat those precise fingers away from the fastening of his pants. "No."

He received another look for that, but he kneeled down anyway, unblinking as he sank to the floor, running his hands through Kabuto's hair, down his sides. Kabuto began to shadow his movements almost immediately, guarding against something; Yamato could see the arms twisting slowly in the edges of his vision, following his. He was used to the hands as much as the eyes. Positioned between Kabuto's legs, he had already forced distance between them; he had control over that much, and he ran a thumb down the inner side of a thigh as Kabuto leaned down, breaking eye contact, to kiss him, as if in an attempt to keep his mouth busy. He responded, however, only cursorily, pulling down and away unfazed. There was a spot he had brushed, just then…

With his lips pressed to just that place, Yamato felt the presence looming over his head lessen momentarily as Kabuto drew back. He kissed again, higher this time; there were fingers on his shoulder, unwilling to move elsewhere but undecided as to what to convey, and he took them up and twined them with his as he touched his lips to the base of Kabuto's cock.

The way Kabuto's grip tightened at that sent Yamato's heart leaping, disproportionately so. He ran his tongue up the shaft and Kabuto sighed, his other hand coming to rest on the back of Yamato's head; Yamato felt something rising in himself, past the anticipation that had been there before, as he took him into his mouth.

Some part of Kabuto was unsettled. Yamato's mouth was hot around his erection, and another little sigh escaped him as the tongue teased him—it was so deliberate. It wasn't often that he took control like this, but each time he had been completely sure of himself, resisting no matter how many times Kabuto had forced him to stumble, all the words muttered too close to his ear and the little bruises up and down his neck. And he went slowly. Now was no different; Kabuto leaned back, spreading his fingers in Yamato's hair, as one swell of pleasure receded, thinking he'd have a moment before that tongue sped its pace again.

Yamato waited one beat before digging his fingers into Kabuto's thigh and sucking hard, and the sound he got in response was loud and high and then deepened into a throaty moan as he continued, hands latching on to Kabuto's hips. Kabuto slapped his newly-freed hand over his mouth for a moment, but was immediately at a loss; it fluttered between Yamato and the open air while he jerked about uselessly, suppressing what abbreviated thrusting movements were even possible from his position. His distress drew a low moan from Yamato, and the sensation vibrated through him, arching his spine.

The pressure lessened, and as he sucked in a breath his hand came to rest on Yamato's wrist. Yamato lifted his head slightly, looking up at him and panting, still so close that his breath was warm on his cock. For that brief moment, Kabuto met his gaze—when it lowered again, he closed his eyes and focused on the heat flooding over him.

Yamato did not back down again, but he did stall, and when finally the form above him had gone near silent with the tension and his own cock ached so desperately he couldn't stand any more, Kabuto was trembling and filmed with sweat. Yamato gave a final, drawn out suck and, hunched over him, full of the tired and earthy scent of Yamato's body, Kabuto hit his climax with an ungraceful yell, scraping at his shoulders with twitching fingers.

When Yamato raised his head again, it was to kiss Kabuto softly—just once, on the corner of the mouth, but Kabuto immediately turned his head and kissed back harder. He practically fell from the edge of the chair, toppling Yamato easily to the floor. It was a lazy motion, but clearly not accidental, as without any pause he set about shoving down Yamato's pants. This put them somewhere around his knees, meaning that although he had already scrambled back into a sitting position, there was little else he could manage to do. Kabuto was behind him within seconds, pinning him further with his legs, biting at his neck. With one hand he pulled Yamato close against his chest; the other slid down his hot skin and wrapped around his cock, to the sound of a moan that was unrestrained relief.

Yamato braced his feet against the floor and leaned back, making Kabuto's mouth rock against his skin as he tried to thrust into his hand. He was going way too slow.

"Kabuto…" Yamato could feel it—the heat that had spent so long building as he made Kabuto squirm, cock trapped and straining against his pants; Kabuto ran his thumb over the tip and, fighting hard not to take hold of the situation himself, Yamato clamped his hands down on Kabuto's thighs.

Releasing his neck briefly, Kabuto exhaled onto the damp skin. "You're always patient." He planted another small kiss, still teasing Yamato with his fingers.

Whatever Yamato was about to say in response was transformed into a graceless moan as Kabuto reassessed his grip, breathing next to his ear as he found a rhythm. "I wouldn't want you to suffer any longer than that. Yamato…" His entire body responded, shuddering, chilled for an instant at that voice but then—hot—so close—at the sound of his name, Yamato went over, Kabuto's cheek pressed against his neck.

For a while, the two of them were quiet. Semen dripped down Yamato's stomach. Kabuto wrapped his arms safely above, savoring the warmth as Yamato covered his hands with his own. His eyelashes brushed against his skin.

When he had caught his breath, Yamato opened his eyes. "…Ah… Kabuto?" His voice caught slightly.

Kabuto sighed and shifted, carefully disentangling himself. "Mm."

"Thanks." He tugged off his pants with some difficulty and stood, then left the bedroom, returning shortly—somewhat cleaner—to find that Kabuto had already relocated himself to the bed. He took the space beside him.

Yamato would sleep alone tonight, as always, but Kabuto settled into his arms nonetheless.

By the time Yamato was ready to see his guest off at the door, it was fully dark, but not yet quiet in the streets of Konoha. He told him to be safe on the way home. Kabuto scowled, and closed the door behind him without a word, leaving Yamato alone, laughing quietly, to wash the sake cups.


End file.
